Lost in time
by LtHawk
Summary: Merlin has been waiting for many centuries and now Arthur finally returns. But there is one tiny problem and they can't talk it out.
1. Chapter 1

Gelosed in timan - Lost in time

Disclaimer: this entire story is as illegal as can be.  
Rating: K - nothing much happens  
Summary: Merlin has waited for centuries for Arthur to come back. Now he has returned but there is one problem.

"_**In a land of myth, and a time of magic, the destiny of a Great Kingdom had rested on the shoulders of a young man, his name; Merlin.**_"

The myths had faded into, well, myth. Magic wasn't what it had been and, frankly, Merlin hadn't been young for many centuries. Still, he endured. Day after day, moon after moon, year after dreary year and hopeless century after century.

The new faith had come and magic had given way, surprisingly quickly he thought. There were pockets of resistance of course and those had been quickly snuffed out. Then, ages later, science had come.

In the pitiful remains of the old forests, tiny sparks sometimes could still be found and that was all. It became more and more difficult to believe that the ancient magic that had supported land and life was still somehow active, still guiding the fates of man.

All that could, or so Merlin felt, take care of itself without his meddling. It's just.. one thing, well two really.. he himself was still alife and Arthur was nowhere to be found. It was his curse to grow older and older and wait and wait. Every seventy years or so, he staged his death, de-aged his body and began yet another life, always searching for his king and friend.

One of the advantages of ths time, Merlin thought, was the appreciation for the old culture that you got nowadays. Mind you, nowadays meant something like the last hundred years to him. It was nice that there were fairs where people played the crwth or the rebec again and tried with varying success to reclaim the old culture. He loved going but always felt depressed for days afterward. He missed his own time, his own culture. He missed that clotpole Arthur.

Driving back from his latest Olde English festival, Merlin tried to pay attention to the road instead of to his memories. Should it be this dark already? He peered into the murk, only just noticing the fog. It had been gathering for some time in order to be this thick but he didn't remember it starting. Merlin felt the hairs on his neck rising. Tiny sparks ran over his fingers. Magic! His head reeling, Merlin took the first exit he could find and drove on slowly, trying to feel his way.

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Cold!

Arthur had no idea where he was. He moved completely on instinct, moving his strong arms frantically. He broke the surface and only then realised he was in water. The Lake! He almost forgot to swim when his memory returned in a heady rush, flowing through his groggy mind in a stream of images, concepts, words, feelings.

He'd better swim. It was all very well returning to the land of the living when the land most needed him but for now his armour weighed him down and he was still in the middle of a lake. The water was freezing cold too.

Merlin! Where was that stupid servant? Shouldn't he be here with his king? Insolent boy. Arthur fought to keep swimming and soon enough reached the edge. The edge of the lake was muddy enough to make it extremely hard to stand up. In the end, he had no choice but to simply fall over and lie there, heaving.

"MERLIN!"

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For some reason, the road had ended and there was not a house in sight. Or something even remotely like it. Feeling anxious, Merlin left his car behind and continued on foot. He had no idea what was going on or what was expected of him but it was clear enough something magical was going on. If it wasn't so cold, he'd feel right at home again. His years with Arthur hadn't been any different.

"MERLIN!"

Oddly distorted but clear enough, the sound bypassed his thoughts and rammed straight into his very being. Merlin was running before he knew it and was searching before he properly understood what for. For whom!

"ARTHUR!"

Wet mud splashed around his feet, ruining a perfectly fine pair of shoes. He didn't mind. He didn't even notice. Magic was thrumming through his veins again, stronger than it had been for seven centuries at least. The land was saturated with it. Without much thought, Merlin cast a few wards. When the very air dripped magic, there were always spirits trying to come through the veil. And horrible creatures that didn't bear thinking about. It became harder to walk against the gales of magic. Something was reshaping the world.

Merlin stumbled over a tree root and almost fell. His sharp curse materialised in front of him as an angry cloud of red and black, only to evaporate with a pop and an acrid stench.

"MERLIN!"

There! Crystal clear now and very close. Waves of magic were still rolling out from the same spot where he'd heard the call but they were quickly losing potency. Merlin walked over a quickly as he could, no longer needing even to look where he was going. At the edge of a lake that he couldn't remember being there before, a muddy figure was trying to stand up. His mouth went dry.. this was it, that was Arthur.

Arthur was exactly as he remembered him, only more muddy. For a moment, Merlin was lost for words. Then, Arthur spoke.

"Eala, Merlin! Ic þæt ne undergiete."

Oh dear.

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Like it? Please review. I am posting this as complete but if people like it, I might write another chapter or two.


	2. Chapter 2

Gelosed in timan - Lost in time

Disclaimer: If only I had magic, or owned the BBC...  
Rating: K - nothing much happens  
Summary: Merlin has waited for centuries for Arthur to come back. Now he has returned but there is one problem.  
A/N: Many apologies to the linguists out there.

Arthur was exactly as he remembered him, only more muddy. For a moment, Merlin was lost for words. Then, Arthur spoke.

"Eala, Merlin! Ic þæt ne undergiete."

Oh dear.

Vague flutterings of meaning flashed briefly through Merlin's mind. Arthur was frustrated and slightly angry but, knowing Arthur, that meant precisely nothing. He was almost always like that.

"Hwæt?!", Arthur demanded of the universe in general and of Merlin in particular. "Merlin?!"

That, he understood. Forcing his lips through the no longer familiar sounds, he attempted to answer. "Yes.. I'm eh.. Ic eom Merlin."

Oh heavens above! Magic changed the very fabric of reality to get Arthur here and, more importantly, now and a quick language course wasn't included in the spell. Think, Merlin ordered his foggy brain, think quickly.

Arthur showed no signs of patience. At all. It was frightening in a way how much at home Merlin already felt with the dripping noble.

"Min nebb is ceald.", Arthur stated as if it was a personal affront.

'His... nose? is cold? Oh, right. No wonder.'

It was coming back slowly but too slow right now. Merlin opted for dragging Arthur onto the shore. Though the king protested a lot and repeated 'Ic þæt ne undergiete.' a couple of times, soon enough they were both on dry land and walking back to Merlin's car.

'Hwær cwom pæð?', demanded Arthur. Where has the path gone, Merlin now understood. "Right here, " he answered. Arthur drew his sword and tapped the hard black surface, clearly not understanding.

Oh dear, Merlin thought, what'll happen when I show him the car? He litterally has no idea! And he's wet through and through. He stopped and, still flush with magic, simply pointed at the middle of a clearing.

WHOOMF!

"Oops, sorry."

Arthur rolled his eyes and went to warm himself. That, of course, didn't mean he stopped complaining.

"þeos fyre is to lytel ond mine fet sindon ceald."

"Yes, I know your feet are cold. And I'm not making this fire any bigger, I'll burn the whole forest down. UNGHFFFF!"

Merlin struggled in Arthur's strong grip until he realised he was being hugged. Blue eyes looked into his, filled with merriment."

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From now on, Merlin's rusty language skills permit him to speak Arthur's language so the reader won't notice anything special anymore. Many many thanks to speaksaxon dot blogspot dot nl for the useful quotes!

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"How is Camelot, how is my realm?"

"Well...," Merlin swallowed, "it's been a long time, a very long time. Camelot doesn't exist anymore."

"What?! How? How long?"

The loss was palpable on Arthur's face and Merlin cringed when he saw the anguish that he'd caused his friend and master in one fell blow.

"Over a thousand years."

They said nothing for a while. At least they were drying up nicely now.

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"Listen to me, you clotpole. Just do as I say, you'll be alright!" Merlin tried to push Arthur into his car using sheer force. It wasn't going well.

"Listen to you? I am your king and you never obey me!"

"Just get into the car."

"And don't call me a clotpole. That isn't even a word, no matter how often you say it!"

Merlin raised a hand. "Swefe nu."

Two minutes later, Merlin was driving on the motorway with a happily sleeping Arthur in the passenger seat. Hey, it worked for BA Baracus...

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"Where is the pit?"

"The pit?"

Arthur blushed "The.. pit you go to."

Merlin showed him the toilet. It was all coming back. Taking care of Arthur, waiting on the dollophead hand and foot, having to explain himself every single sodding minute... He listened. Footsteps, no sound of flushing. Oh gallopping gargoyles!

"Sire, no, watch, listen. Here, you push here and.. your mess.. dissappears."

"Why? Why don't you just take it out?"

Merlin rested his head against a convenient wall. It was nicely cool against the throbbing.

"Because it is more convenient. Sire, please! I know it is hard to adapt.."

"I see no reason why I should adapt to anything. I am king, you know."

"No, you're not. That's Queen Elizabeth. Now just sit on the couch and be quiet."

When Merlin came back from the kitchen where he'd made a pot of very strong tea, Arthur had taken off his armour and was now down to his breeches.

"Your .. flat is far too hot for a man, Merlin. No wonder you look all soft."

Sigh. Only 62 degrees. Hot compared to the castle, of course. Merlin adjusted the thermostat. It turned out to be easiest to just do what Arthur said. Damn!

"Who is this queen Æthelbæth? A usurper? Why did you not fight her?!"

"Elizabeth, you dollophead." Arthur frowned in anger but Merlin ignored him. "You are a thousand years or more out, sire. Even I don't know how much exactly. Dozens of kings and queens have ruled after you. It is now 2013 eh.. according to the New Faith."

That finally gave Arthur pause. "But you look only slightly older. Ah...", understanding dawned on his face. "Magic."

"Yes, magic. Do you have any idea how long I waited for you?"

Arthur nodded. There was no reason to say it out loud. Both men sipped their tea.

Then Arthur, who'd been looking around at the walls apparently, spoke up.

"Why do you have a picture of an almost unclad man on your wall with lots of numbers underneath?"


	3. Chapter 3

"A naked guy on my wall?! What are you talking ab- oh," Merlin said. "That's just my team calendar. I'm July."

"You're what?", Arthur wanted to know.

'Yay, another thing he doesn't know about'. Merlin hunted around for the old word. "Call it after Midsummer. We've been using the Rémisc names for the months here."

"Roman? No! What's that team you are talking about? A team of harlots?! Honestly, Merlin, I knew you couldn't be left unguarded for even a si-"

"IT'S A SPORTS TEAM! It's called gymnastics! It's a good sport, people love it! And they're not naked pics, we've got pants on! And it's for a good cause!"

"Pah! Judging from what I see you're all richer than Camelot and Mercia combined or it's all magic. Speaking of magic, why do you live in such a cramped place? Gaius had bigger quarters than this."

...

"Well?"

"Arthur, listen. It's different now. The muggles, no wait.. the common people don't know about magic anymore. They are also extremely powerful now. I can't just upset everything by magicking whatever I want."

Arthur nodded intelligently, which he always did when he had no idea what was going on.

"Remember how Gaius used to improve old remedies? And how Hererinc was still remembered for improving the bow? Even though he lived more than a hundred years before us? Well... things improve over time."

Arthur nodded. This time he smiled as well. "Things improve. Why are you telling me all th-"

"Be silent. Now picture a thousand years of change."

Arthur nodded. Then smiled. Merlin just stared at him so, in a rare moment of honesty, Arthur shook his head.

"You don't get it, right?"

"No."

"Picture this. Even the smallest child now knows more about nature than Gaius himself. In fact, we know why nature is what it is. People can dig more than a league into the ground and get out valuable stuff. We can cure diseases you've never heard of and we can do it with a couple of simple pills. We can make carts that ride without a horse in front and this is so ridiculously easy that basically everyone has one now. In a very real sense, people don't even need magic anymore."

"My father would be proud."

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Arthur had looked over the calendar and had admitted everyone wore pants. Then he'd criticized the musculature of litterally every single gymnast. Then he'd drunk his tea after which he'd demanded more.

There'd be no way Merlin could get his charge out and about any time soon so he'd decided to microwave a pizza. This had not worked out very well. Then again, Arthur had done his best. He'd only mildly freaked when he heard the tone but saw no bell and had only insisted for a bit to know where that bell was.

"I am not eating this."

"Why not?"

"It's got all magic inside it!" Arthur cringed at the thought. "That's wrong.. You know we've had our talks and now I don't mind you occasionally help me out a bit in battle when y-"

"For smeg's sake! I've saved you hundreds of time, you royal ingrate!"

Arthur waved his hand imperiously. "Never mind all that. You can kill monsters with magic, I don't mind."

thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk...

"And stop doing that. It's not as if you have that much brains.."

"There is no magic in a microwave you clotpole! It's just heat. Never mind how it works."

"So it's just... bread covered in ... things.. that are hot?"

"Yes, it's called a pizza, it's a.. eh.. Roman invention and very good." Merlin had no idea if the pizza was that old as a concept but he didn't care. Arthur would probably forget it all as soon as convenient anyway.

Arthur did his level best to wield the cutlery in the way Merlin used them, mostly because it looked efficient, not because a mere servant could ever be better at anything than he was.

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"No, much bigger. Queen Elizabeth reigns over an area of 243,820 km² and that is just the United Kingdom. There are areas... well, there it gets complicated. Stick to this."

"How can she ever... that is amazing! But even travelling that far would take weeks, months!"

"Actually, it could be done in a day if you really did your best. Or you could fly."

"Again.. without magic?"

"Absolutely. Technology, remember that word."

"That's insane. You just say 'technology'. That's not an explanation."

Merlin grinned. "Neither is magic. There really are good explanations for everything but almost no one understands them anyway. Only the technicians... the eh.. machine builders actually know how it all works."

Arthur mused a bit. He had always functioned very well by knowing exactly what was going on in his immediate surroundings - namely, the castle - and happily ignoring everything else. It was decidedly unsettling to suddenly be transported to a strange world where everything was strange, where he didn't speak the language and where he hadn't the faintest what everything was for. Luckily, he had his one beacon: Merlin. It rather grated on Arthur's nerves that his hapless servant now seemed to know absolutely everything.

"Merlin, what is a kilometer?

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"What's that?"

Eh... well, shit. "That's my laptop, Arthur. It is not important right now."

Arthur lifted the top part of the contraption, which obligingly opened. Suddenly, the shiny dark material lit up and formed an image.

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A/N: Remember, my much adored readers: reviews are love. And good for my ego. But mainly love.

There'll be a slight hiatus as I'm off on a short holiday for a week. After my return, I might be persuaded to think about possibly writing some more. (hint! hint!)


	4. Chapter 4

"What's that?"

Eh... well, shit. "That's my laptop, Arthur. It is not important right now."

Arthur lifted the top part of the contraption, which obligingly opened. Suddenly, the shiny dark material lit up and formed an image.

"CAMELOT?! You have an image of.., oh wait no.."

"No Arthur, that's not Camelot. That's Hogwarts."

"What's that?"

Oh dear. How to explain this? Merlin jumped right in, there was nothing for it. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And before you start concluding stuff.. it doesn't exist."

Arthur just glared at him, expecting to have things explained to him. He did that a lot, Merlin felt right at home.

"It's the creation of a writer who wrote a very popular story about a boy who is invited to a magic school and ... has adventures. It does not exist. But a movie was made from it, a whole string of movies in fact."

"A movie is the loads-of-drawings-very-fast-so-you-think-it-moves. ..," Arthur mused. "So that.. is just a very good drawing. By circolwyrde eh.. computer, right?" His Modern English really was getting better. Neat spell, if only Merlin thought so himself.

"Yes, by computer."

"Do you think some computer wizard could make me an image of Camelot?"

"I suppose so. You'd have to make insanely detailed drawings of everything."

The doorbell rang.

Oh tripe! Simon! Merlin's team mate and sort of best friend was supposed to come over for beer night. Oh well.

Merlin opened the door to a smiling Simon who looked quizzically at Merlin's deer-in-the-headlights expression and then hugged him. Arthur looked on, not trusting the stranger in the least. Also, shouldn't that bit of rabble have bowed?

A minute or so later, Simon leaned in the doorway to the kitchen, where Merlin was making another pot of strong tea. He needed it.

"Mate, your friend is hot! He is built, wonderful smile.. I'll tell ya, he could get me out of me trackies any time he wanted."

"Sshhhhhh!", warned Merlin but it was too late.

"What are you talking about, villager?!"

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"I understand," Arthur said and nodded. "People can talk about same sex attraction now and it is not dishonourable."

Merlin glared at him. "And?", he prodded."

"I'm sorry."

"And?"

"I'm sorry for throwing you against a wall and almost choking you."

Simon wiped the sweat from his forehead, again. "That eh.. that's quite alright, mate."

Merlin had patiently explained that Arthur was really a good guy but he came from a very small village, that's why he sounded so strange and that's why he didn't know a lot about modern stuff. Simon had bought it or at least had acted like he had.

Merlin went to make yet another pot of strong tea. Arthur had wondered about that. Even after he'd learnt what tea was. Whatever happened to ale? Mind you, not the tavern stuff of course but the lighter stuff for drinking.

There were so many things he didn't know about. You could drink water safely, for one. The world was insanely much bigger than he thought it was and the sun wasn't the only sun. He vaguely understood science as a powerful thinking method for finding out new things. Also, and this had shocked the king to his very core, villagers had a say in government! Why? Why? Why? How could you expect a milliner or a smith to know about running a country? It was simply beyond the pale.

Simon was now telling Merlin about something or other... Arthur tried to concentrate.

".. so next week, on top of being a first aid volunteer, I'll be collecting door to door for the Red Cross."

"Busy wee-"

"Red Cross," Arthur interjected, "Is that the armed forces of the new faith?"

The other two laughed and Arthur frowned. One did not laugh at the king!

"Hardly. The Red Cross was started to take care of the wounded, regardless of which army they belong to. Nowadays we mostly help civilians."

"What is collecting?"

"You ... you honestly don't know what collecting is?", marvelled Simon.

Arthur tried to cover. "Of course I do.. I just meant... which tech.. eh method do you use?"

Simon looked at Merlin, again, totally flabbergasted, again.

"Well, I just go door to door and ask people for money."

Damn. It was that simple? Arthur had never thought of that.

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A couple of months later, Arthur and Merlin walked into St Paul's Cathedral. Arthur was already in pain from craning his neck so often but he ignored it as a true warrior does. He looked up immediately and became a bit dizzy trying to see everything at once.

He had come far. Arthur understood what democracy was, although he still heartily disapproved, what the country looked like roughly, what the year was, how to eat with knife and fork and all those other things that 21st century people take for granted.

"This is a temple of the new faith?"

"Yes," replied Merlin. "It's called a church. In fact, this one is a cathedral. A special kind of..." But Arthur had vanished.

Three frantic minutes' worth of searching brought the men together again. Merlin wiped the sweat from his brow and prepared to scold Arthur to within an inch of his royal life but something stopped him... yes, the look of wonder on his king's face.

"I don't follow their faith of course, " Merlin said quietly once he had Arthur's attention. "But their services are beautiful. The people who built this went to their very limits in trying to make something of real beauty."

"They succeeded," said Arthur. "In fact, I.."

A series of musical notes made him stop and turn around wildly, searching for the sound. The music started out with a simple theme but became quickly more complicated and involved. Both men simply stood, staring at the grand organ. When at least one of the enormous 32' stops was engaged, they felt the sound in their very bodies.

"What is that?!"

"This is what I wanted to show you. It's completely mechanic. All metal and wood. You see-"

"People still value things like this. I'm not stupid, you know." They had had a talk about that.

"Could've fooled me," Merlin muttered and got cuffed on the head for it.

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Merlin walked back into his flat with his groceries. Perhaps Arthur had, and it was devoutly to be wished, not destroyed anything this time.

"Hey Merlin!" Simon came over to help with the big plastic bags.

"How did y- oh right, Arthur let you in. Sorry I'm late."

"No problem. We had fun. Come, have a look."

Merlin was, as is well-known, a very old man. He had seen centuries' worth of culture, wars, kings and queens, whole civilizations. He was, however, not prepared for what a grinning Arthur showed him. Merlin whipped around to his friend Simon, became red, then white, gasped..

"THAT CLOTPOLE HAS A BLOG?!"

- not The End -

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A/N: I hope you liked it. As always: reviews are love. And good for my ego. Mainly love, though. You earn a Merlin point for writing one, in fact. As soon as I find out what that is.

What Arthur listened to in the cathedral was Bach's Fugue from Prelude and Fugue BWV 548 in e minor. If you add /watch?v=idhHq1mn1XA to youtube, you'll hear it.


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin walked back into his flat with his groceries. Perhaps Arthur had, and it was devoutly to be wished, not destroyed anything this time.

"Hey Merlin!" Simon came over to help with the big plastic bags.

"How did y- oh right, Arthur let you in. Sorry I'm late."

"No problem. We had fun. Come, have a look."

Merlin was, as is well-known, a very old man. He had seen centuries' worth of culture, wars, kings and queens, whole civilizations. He was, however, not prepared for what a grinning Arthur showed him. Merlin whipped around to his friend Simon, became red, then white, gasped..

"THAT CLOTPOLE HAS A BLOG?!"

Merlin could hardly believe it. That idiot had announced himself for all the world to see: blogster dot com slash yourtrueking

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I was born in 513 of the Common Era, as far as I can find out. I'm not altogether sure how old I am exactly but my final battle was in 537, according to modern historians.

My mother died when she gave birth to me. I grew up with a series of wetnurses and nannies. It was jolly good fun, to be honest. I was careening through the castle all day.

My father took me hunting for the first time when I was eight years old. I loved it! The hunt, the tension, excitement.. the kill! A year later, I got my big wish: my first battle. King Mark of Cornwall had sent some men to kill my father. Let is be known that I was terribly brave.

I took charge of the knights when I was sixteen. Naturally, I did a wonderful job.

Nothing much of interest happened. I fought some battles, skirmishes really, was brave a lot, learned far too much with far too stuffy tutors and generally had a good time.

Then Merlin came. That man, and I really do mean it, was the most worthless, insolent and maladroit servant I ever had the good fortune to clap my eyes on. I know you're reading this, Merlin, so there.

Merlin claims he saved me dozens of times but for some reason I was never in as much danger before I met him. So I guess it evens out, eh?

Anyway, after I died at Brwydr Camlan remember nothing just until I suddenly found myself in a very very cold pond that later turned out to be the Lake of Avalon. Since Merlin's pet dragon has told him (Merlin told me later) that I would return when my country needed me the most.. I am your king.

I send my friendly and royal well wishes to Elizabeth Windsor, second of that name. It is not so, noble lady, that I wish to harm you or yours. However, the old magic is strong and I expect to take over your place sooner than later.

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A/N: Remember people: reviews are love. And good for my ego. And you love my ego so it all boils down to the same thing. Please please please review. I beg on my knees, humbly. Well, no not really. Once I've published this I'll go have a beer but you get the idea.


	6. Chapter 6

www dot blogster dot com slash yourtrueking

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My people!

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. I wasn't wrong last time when I wrote that you disappointed me, people of Britan! It is really beyond the pale, what you apparently believe about me.

Since Merlin finally agreed to give me his laptops new password and helps me discover the magic of internet, I naturally searched for information about myself. Perhaps it is because these search engine wizards all live in a wayward colony that they carry a grudge agains me? I cannot help but think along those lines as the interweb is full of nonsense about me.

I seem to have lived at Tintagel. Tintagel, and let me make this perfectly clear, Tintagel is a dump. Merlin has whisked me thence in his horseless carriage that he refuses to let me steer. My castle was bigger. It had far more rooms.

Look at it. It's a mess.

Naturally, I was sorely vexed by the sight of this excuse for a castle. And even more so when I discovered, through valiant searching on my part I tell you, why your historians think I lived there. A stone was found with the name ARTOGNOU on it. Gravestone thingy, newfaith nonsense if you ask me.

Is my name Artognou? No! It's Arthur. Or Arþur. All fine by me. It is not and it has never been Artognou.

Besides, I passed through the veil after my impressively heroic death when my body was set adrift on the Lake. The mere idea that my people have managed to forget the manner of my death shocked me to my core. Even more so than the state of the forests, the wildlife, the things you did to your castles... it even shocked me more than your silly ideas about democracy.

I saw a documentary on the television a few weeks ago, by the distinguished artisans Julian Jones, Jake Michie, Julian Murphy en Johnny Capps. It was basically true. Go watch that my people and regain respect for your true king.

I have to sign off, britons, my servant claims his email is more important than my communication to my people.

Wes þu hal!

your king, Arthur

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A/N: Remember people: reviews are love. And good for my ego. And you love my ego so it all boils down to the same thing. Please please please review. I beg on my knees, humbly. Well, no not really. Once I've published this I'll go have a beer but you get the idea.


	7. Chapter 7

www blogster dot com slash yourtrueking

O day and night, but this is wondrous strange! Many impressive miracles have you people wrought but many also are the most boneheaded, mindboggingly stupid things that you have done, unbelievably retarded choices you have made.. One finds oneself back in the land of the living, ready to take up kingship again and save the whole bally lot of you and then this.

I am not even talking about this bloody awful democracy thing that you have invented for yourselves. That has been spoken about before and my new friend Simon says that fans constantly need new things so that they keep liking you. Fans... pah! I am your king, people. You don't have to like me, you just have to as you say.

Back to the stupid stuff. I have just found out that there is something called The National Lottery. (No, I am not linking to those bastards. Also, I don't yet know how.) The general idea seems to be that commoners pay the rulers to give them a chance of winning some money. Now, when I held tournaments back in the day, you actually had some chance of coming out on top. Well, not really. That was me. But you could fight for second place, which still held considerable honour!

The chance of winning the lottery thing is vanishingly small. I would'nt send an army out at those odds. Now, that's not really the stupid stuff. What is really awefully bloody stupid is that the commoners - I'm talking to you! - keep buying into it. And you guys are not even forced to do it! Honestly, if I needed money I'd simply send out an armed guard with the tax collectors and we'd be done in a day.

There's a whole lot you can do with money that earns more than The National Lottery. The returns are awful. Merlin did some sums for me, after I'd badgered him enough, since I am not as good with arithmancy as he is. The chance of winning what they call the Jackpot ('Ye Main Lure' would be better) lower than one in fourteen thousand thousand. There can't be that many people in the whole country! Stupid! Stupid!

Of course there are smaller prices but that is actually the devious part. If people keep winning small amounts or even keep hearing of people who've one something, they will keep buying. It is a scam, pure and simple. If I caught the barman at the King's Arms pulling a stunt like this, I'd have him flogged.

Listen to me, my people. There will come a day that I need your support. So keep yourselves as rich, or rather as not-poor, as humanly possible. Do not spend your hard-earned gold on The National Lottery.

Yesterday, I discovered kickstarter dot com and conceived of a most marvellously cunning plan to have you commoners fund my eventual rise back to kingship. Merlin says that is a horrible plan and the arrogant bastard won't even give me reasons so I guess I will need your gold. Don't spend it unwisely!

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A/N: What subject will amaze King Arthur next? Politics, society, television, culture? Let me know in the comments.

Remember people: reviews are love. And good for my ego. And you love my ego so it all boils down to the same thing. Please please please review. I beg on my knees, humbly. Well, no not really. Once I've published this I'll go have a beer but you get the idea.


	8. Chapter 8

www dot blogster dot com slash yourtrueking

No! Just no.

Merlin briefly considered a short, brutish fantasy on killing his friend Simon but gave up on it. It was too late anyway. It wasn't even that Simon had, by teaching Arthur about the internet, created a monster. Arthur had always been a monster.

Now the blithering idiot typed at Merlin's - yes, Merlin's! - laptop, huffing and nodding in agreement with himself. King Arthur had a blog. It was simply not to be borne.

Merlin made himself a cuppa. He needed a lot of cuppas these days. Actually.. he didn't understand it all himself. Arthur was back. That meant the old magics still worked and also that Arthur's country needed him. The clotpole interpreted that to mean the whole of the United Kingdom, Ireland and what he called 'that wayward colony overseas'. It had been patiently explained to him that what he called 'the grey sea' was in fact the Atlantic Ocean and that this colony was The United States of America, with just about threehundredsixteen million inhabitants. He'd even been shown the wikipedia page about the demography of the US and had been shown a documentary. It hadn't helped. At all. Merlin shuddered to think what would happen when Arthur found out about the Bayeux tapestry. He'd simply claim France as well.

Hence the cuppas. That dollophead had waltzed back into his life after Cthulhu knew how many years and simply had set up shop. Well, court that is. He didn't even have culture shock after the first few days. Any and all technology was explained away as mechanics or machines, which Arthur thought were synonyms for magic. It was infuriating! To Arthur, there was nothing special about pushing a button on the remote and expecting the TV to switch on. That was apparently its spell and if that spell was now called IR then that was fine by Arthur. He just didn't care! Internal combustion engines could just as well be called hweorfan. It was a thingy that made things go. Arthur sounded like a Pakled sometimes.

When Merlin's noble guest had finished with his infernal blog, he'd probably hop over to KnightFight dot co dot uk - Arthur preferred sites from his own country - and hack his way through a couple of dozen opponents. And he was terribly terribly good at it. It was amazing how well he'd adapted to the virtual world and how impossibly good he was at killing people. And monsters. Except Arthur didn't much care about the difference. Merlin adamantly refused to let Arthur practise with his own sword inside - not after what had happened to that poor pigeon on the windowsill. They'd had a big fight about that. Then Arthur had offered to cook the pigeon as a peace offering but Merlin knew what happened when Arthur cooked.

And so on. Every single time Merlin left for work, he'd worry about the state of the flat when he'd return later. Especially since Arthur thought of the flat as his state. He'd even expended a lot of effort in drawing his coat of arms on a big piece of cardboard - stupid Simon had scrounged up some markers - and stuck it to the door. That had been another fight but Merlin had cunningly suggested that Arthur had better first build a following before he took over the whole country.

DRRRINGG!

The doorbell. Quick, before- ah, too late.

"Yeees," drawled Arthur in his most magnanimous voice. At least he looked pretty normal now and didn't scare any callers by insisting on wearing his hauberk in an attempt to look royal.

"What is this.. cancer?"

Oh smeg! Merlin ran for the door before another innocuous visit could turn into an embarrassment.

"Yes, thank you Arthur." Merlin shoved his friend back and looked into the exasperated face of some greying woman.

"Poor guy, not entirely.. you know." The woman nodded gratefully. Merlin gave her a fiver and closed the door.

"Arthur, you dollophead! Why do you even answer the door anymore?!"

"I'll have you know that I was very polite even though it was another beggar."

Aaaahh! "That is not a beggar, she is collecting for the needy. Well, people with cancer anyway and that is a horribly disease."

Arthur thought briefly about that. "And your healers need more money to cure the sick? Isn't it far easier to simply raise the taxes?"

It was going to be another of those knights.. eh, nights.

At least there was one thing that made this all somewhat bearable. Merlin could still roundly kick Arthur's arse at HALO.

* * *

A/N: Keep sending me suggestions for what Arthur has to write about on his blog. Anything goes, his royal highness will have an opinion about it.

Many thanks to Nance (guest) for her suggestion for this piece. I'll keep breaking into Arthur's blog with posts like these. Nice one, Nance!

Remember people: reviews are love. And good for my ego. And you love my ego so it all boils down to the same thing. Please please please review. I beg on my knees, humbly. Well, no not really. Once I've published this I'll go have a beer but you get the idea.


	9. Chapter 9

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My people!

All is not well in the world. By a bowshot. Here I was, thinking that Camelot had problems - mainly of the magical kind, though - and now I find out the world is insanely bigger than I thought it was and it is filled with all kinds of bad stuff, mostly non-magical.

Poverty, for one. I simply see no reason that there shouldn't be poor people. It is the natural order. There is the king, that's me, at the top and then you get some courtiers and various hangers-on and after that ... well, servants I guess. Farmers. All of those are poor. Oh yes, artisans! Less-poor, usually. None of those people should be rich because otherwise the rich people would have to become even richer in order to make up the difference. Imagine how rich I would have to become! In short: quit whining, give me any excess money you may have lying around and in return I'll take care of you all, like a good king should do.

Disease.. I don't see why there are even ill people anymore. What with your technology and fabulous riches, there should be no problem curing the lot. Merlin says that some diseases are very very complicated but I don't think I buy that. My own court physician grumbled a lot about me pushing him but he always solved the problem in the end! And speaking of Gaius, he wasn't rich at all. So, why is it that doctors (what's wrong with the word 'healer'?) cost boatloads of money? Per day!

There is more stuff like that but there is only one people that are a problem in and of themselves: The French. They're like a modern-day Mercia! First of all, they speak a bastardized form of Roman, which proves they're all traitors to start with. Also, they're, let's be frank, weeds and whoopsies and big girl's blouses. They invented the tapestry, the soufflé and the sweet liqueur.

Speaking of tapestries... Merlin mumbled something yesterday about the Tapestry of Bayeux and refused to tell me what it was. You understand, I was forced to throw a goblet at him. I didn't even hurt him a lot but in the end, he told me. So! It! Turns! Out! that I own a big chunk of France as well! There is no way that moronic Edward the Confessor was related to me but I don't much care, royalty is royalty. Besides, my father won Camelot in honourful combat, there's nothing wrong with that.

Be it as it may, those Norman bastards killed a whole of my people. Your people, they were your ancestors! And after that a whole series of wars, sometimes with the bloody Dutch as well. Believe me, my people, I am much vexed to find this out. At least the Dutch married into the family, which is an accepted noble state of affair. I heard that the dastardly French surrendered in three minutes flat in the last war, by the way. That takes some impressive cowardice.

Also, they're all Roman Catholic. I have no truck with this New Faith - Merlin says it's almost two thousand years old it is certainly not hereabouts - and I don't care at all whether you pray to any gods but I don't like the competition. I do like the idea of the king being head of the church by they way but sadly enough that post is still taken. (A royal nod to you, gracious Lady.) I also like the reason for the Church of England's existence. That was proper manly thinking of that guy.

Speaking of the queen, by the way, I saw a postage stamp today. I would never ever allow people to lick my backside, even the backside of my portrait! It must be a French idea.

Those French bastards even infected our language with their Roman-descended rot! Although it gives me pain, my people, I shall have to put my foot down. No longer shall you feel 'joy', as it is imported from the bastard language French. Instead, be free to feel mirth. Never commence but do start. Now.

I firmly expect my followers to start complaining about spelling errors and other unimportant tripe again. Listen up, people! I am your king, not a scholar. It took some pretty nifty magic for Merlin to let me speak to you at all in your language. And then I had to learn to type! When I grew up we wrote 'potato' as _eorþæppla_. Bow down before your king and pay homage - yes, one m - to his mighty learnings. Don't whine. It is very unmanly. It is, however, very French.

I have to go now, my people. Merlin has kindly reminded me that my daily fifteen minutes are almost up and I have to stop before the little box with blinking lights overheats.

Wes þu hal!

your king, Arthur

* * *

A/N: Keep sending me suggestions for what Arthur has to write about on his blog. Anything goes, his royal highness will have an opinion about it.

Many thanks to Irene for her suggestion for this piece.

Remember people: reviews are love. And good for my ego. And you love my ego so it all boils down to the same thing. Please please please review. I beg on my knees, humbly. Well, no not really. Once I've published this I'll go have a beer but you get the idea.


	10. Chapter 10

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My people!

Finally! Finally the little blinking box that rules my connection to you, my people, works again. My servant, insolent though he is, has been instrumental in reestablishing the link between us. It seems that the three-pronged fork absolutely has to be stuck solidly into one of the corresponding holes in the wall before it can do its magic. How am I to know? Lots of animals have a tail and my royal cushions used to have tassels.. I thought it was decorative.

Mind you, what you people find decorative or, dare I use the word, beautiful is exceedingly strange. Damien Hirst would've been soundly flogged for making a statue of a dissected pregnant woman in my time. And rightfully so. Who thought up the colour scheme of your cities? I liked those earthen natural colours! Why does everything have to look like a diseased giant's solidified acid reflux? Why do you seem to think that women get more beautiful the more garments they take off? Who thought up the Broadgate Tower? I should personally like to put an arrow through both his eyes. On that note, Merlin says you don't allow people to be beheaded or burnt at the stake anymore. Why is that?

Let me not even start about what you people call music these days! What happened to the crwth, the dulcimer, the harp. what happened to the bards? Music seems to be nothing but scandally clad ladies moving around gratuitously and singing as it it were an afterthought! It is a disgrace. Why can no one declaim properly anymore? Why do all these songs seem to be about romantic love or, actually, how it fails constantly, and about loads and loads of minor concerns that do not interest a proper man in the least?! Why do you not sing about your glory in battle, about your history or about your national heroes? Why not sing about your general or even your scientists? I heard that this man called Newton basically explained that an apple falling to the ground and the moon turning around the world are somehow the same thing. Merlin claims the apple fell on his head but I don't believe that for a minute. Anyway, this is a brilliant figure who should be honoured, especially because his numbers made a big difference in battle.

Bring back beauty, my people! If you know not what about to sing then sing about me. It is a good idea anyway because I expect to be ruling you fairly soon and then you'll be waving and clapping and stamping and yelling on the streets when I pass. On horseback, mind you! Bring those back too, I detest those smelly metal boxes that hem a man in on all sides. In deference to your law-run society, I'll allow the horses to carry number plates.

Well, something else, my people. Many congratulations to that most gracious lady Elizabeth, second of that name, for managing to hold onto power for so very long. Sixty years, that is quite impressive. But why, my dear lady, be so complicated about it? I barely understand Merlin's prattling at the best of times but when he endeavored to explain that there is apparently a difference between being queen, reigning and sitting on the throne (or whatever), I lost it completely. There was nothing for it.. I just had to chuck a goblet at his head. By the way, do you have any idea how difficult it is to get hold of a proper goblet in this age? How am I suposed to quaff with these dainty cups named after a country? Anyway, much royal respect for Elizabeth. Long may she reign over you, at least until I take over.

I enjoyed myself immensely when Merlin took me to London - which should be renamed Camelot by the way - to see Soldiering the Flag. Your soldiers surely are impressive and show much discipline in marching around with such exact timing. Where are the swords, though? They carry artificial-looking broad planks with complicated looking stuff on it and a very short knife. That won't kill a lot of Mercians! I suppose it was just for show and they use their real weapons only in battle. Too bad I wasn't allowed near the royal family, even though I am just as royal as they are. Also, I am older than all your beloved traditions.

Can someone explain to me why something called Canal four has done something to the races so that I cannot watch horse racing with the magnificent Clare Balding commenting?

Well, my people, I shall sign off now and take my leave of thee, before Merlin manages to trip over the blinkbox's cord again. Be well, keep sending me money and await the day that your true king will bring greatness to this country once again.

Wes þu hal!

your king, Arthur

* * *

A/N: Keep sending me suggestions for what Arthur has to write about on his blog. Anything goes, his royal highness will have an opinion about it.

Many thanks to the people who sent in their suggestions this time. I try to use them all. If I've forgotten something, send me a note.

Remember people: reviews are love. And good for my ego. And you love my ego so it all boils down to the same thing. Please please please review. I beg on my knees, humbly. Well, no not really. Once I've published this I'll go have a beer but you get the idea.


	11. Chapter 11

blogster dot com slash yourtrueking

My people!

According to the news, the 'Taliban should join peace process'. Well, first off... I really like this news thing where people apparently write newsworthy things for everyone to read. You people really have come far! It is a far cry from the town crier and the occasional traveller you talk to. From all the land, everyone can read and hear and see what is going on and, most of the time, why. My question is: why, if you have all that power right at your finger tips, do you spend your energy and gold on stories athbout the uncouth utterings of barely clad harlots who pretend to sing or people whose only cliam to notoriety is that they shocked the already severely jaded sensibilities of my people? Why, I ask you? Why?

Secondly, those Taliban sound like pretty bad guys. Why have a peace process in the first place? Merlin says it will be too difficult to kill them all and also something about every culture being worthy that I don't understand. Of course not every culture is worthy? Look at Mercia! They killed indiscriminately, were without honour and if their king was even more inbred, he'd be a sandwich! Anyway, I really don't see why men who repress an entire populace and force them to worship like they do should be allowed to remain unchecked. At least some of our soldiers are there helping out. I feel a fierce pride for them and their hard work. My royal salutations to prince Harry, who served there with distinction. I shall certainly offer him a high position in the royal court, when his grandmother finally yields to fate and hands over the reins to me. She will simply have to see sense some day.

I do not like his father overmuch. He looks like he should have been buried years ago and Merlin says he has some very weird ideas about healing. At first, I thought it was good to heal with herbs, how else would you go about it? Then, my servant explained the medicine is very different now and also that those herbs and other things are diluted more often than there are stars in the heavens. Amazingly, this Charles still expects it to work, or work even better. Well, my people, how to put this.. I do not suffer fools gladly.

Talking about healing. Does anyone know what a police call box is? The best healing, miraculous healing in fact, that I ever saw did not come from my court physician but from a rather strange, foppish man who suddenly appeared in the court and fought of a monster. He said it was alien and alien to our lands it surely was. This was in itself nothing unusual. Magical monsters appeared on a roughly weekly basis and that was the only time some stranger turned up to kill it for me. He called himself The Healer, wore very strange clothes, more like what is normal now than what was customary in my time, and kept laughing and making snide remakes. He disappeared as suddenly as he came. One of courtiers later confessed he had seen a big blue cupboard with the words Police Call Box on it. The healer... the healer who? Merlin is no help. When I asked him, he just spit his cornflakes accross the table and disappeared into his bedroom.

Curses, I am all fired up. Far too energetic and a bit jittery. I have no idea why, or it could be the fizzy beverage I just consumed. I comes in a can made from what looks like a very thin form of tin and is silver and blue. There is an angry cow on it, for some reason. Merlin keeps three or four in his cold cupboard usually. Maybe I shouldn't have had them all.

Anyway, thank you for sending me some more money. I shall need a whole lot to run a proper court, when it finally comes to that. Money isn't worth a lot anymore. The most basic things take numbers of pounds (pounds? why? that's a weight!) higher than I care to count to for fear of losing place. Since having seen The Queen's (for now) Palaces, I have decided I want to live in Windsor Castle. I will have to take out all the glitzy stuff and the overdone finery, make it a proper castle again. I am sure that will take a ton of pounds as well. So, don't forget about my kickstarter thingy for setting up the true royal house.

That leaves one big problem for me. What am I going to be king of? There are so many countries and parts of countries and sets of them, it boggles the mind. How on Earth did you guys allow it to happen that Ireland is part of your country but only in part? Why? It's far too complicated. Islands all over the place, countries split into parts that have different names for no real reason... At first I thought I'd be king of only those people who speak the same language but Merlin showed me a map, in the form of a ball for some reason, and showed me how much work that would be. Then again, Scotland is part of the country right now and they don't really speak the same language, do they?

I might have to go for the entire planet. A planet, in case you don't know, is the word for all the land there is, even if it's off the map. With all the needless fighting going on, people need a wise king who can lead them to long life and prosperity.

But that all will have to wait until Merlin and I return from our voyage to the land of the vikings. I see no reason to leave my lands and you, my people, but Merlin says it has been 'booked' and can therefore not be stopped. Does anyone know what magic this is? Well, I shall leave you in the noble and able hands of Elizabeth, second of that name for three weeks.

Wes þu hal!

your king, Arthur

* * *

A/N: Keep sending me suggestions for what Arthur has to write about on his blog. Anything goes, his royal highness will have an opinion about it.

Many thanks to the people who sent in their suggestions this time. I try to use them all. If I've forgotten something, send me a note.

Remember people: reviews are love. And good for my ego. And you love my ego so it all boils down to the same thing. Please please please review. I beg on my knees, humbly. Well, no not really. Once I've published this I'll go have a beer but you get the idea.


	12. Chapter 12

No! NO! No, this was not real. I could not be allowed!

It'd started again. Arthur had sauntered up, silent as death even though he was wearing a hauberk and breeches, frightening the wits out of Merlin with his first sentence.

"Merlin, how may one procure a vibrating wand like yours?"

"Huh, buh..," blubbed Merlin. "Wh.. what? How did you find that?"

Arthur stared at him as if he'd lost his conkers entirely but, then again, this was normal. "On the tiny shelf above your magic washbasin, next to the teethpaste."

"OH! Oh.. I'll be happy to pick up an electric toothbrush for you. In fact, I can do it right now!"

Anything to that get out of the flat at the moment. Arthur was already walking off but turned his head round. "Excellent. I'll have a red one."

Which found a fuming Merlin out on the streets, still sweating even though it was cold enough to freeze your balls off. ARTHUR! That bloody bastardly .. - he groped around for something creative and failed - .. bastard! That maliciously medieval malodorous ..?.. maladroit mongrel! (Ah, better.) It honestly never stopped! Ordering Merlin around in his own flat - that he'd paid for with his own money, mind you - ordering endless services that ranged from all too regular meals for cleaning and explaining 21st century stuff that was very very basic you didn't know where to start!

And he got away with it! Despite himself, there was no way Merlin could refuse to answer to Arthur's many demands. Somehow, it still felt like he was bloody king and you simply did what you were told. That actually made it worse. He looked at the shiny brand-new electric toothbrush in his hand and contemplated chucking it into the river for all of five seconds but in the end couldln't do it. Besides, he didn't have the time to go back for another one. He still had to organize the seven hundred plus photos he'd made in Sweden. You know, the friendly, almost aggressively well-behaved country that Arthus insisted on calling 'the realm of the Vikings'.

* * *

Blissfully unaware of geographic niceties such as naming the right country, and a whole of of other things besides, Arthur pottered around the flat. He felt a bit weird. In fact, he strongly suspected himself of having discovered a new feeling. He'd even consulted an online dictionary. (Not knowing the alphabet in order doesn't help with a paper one.) He could hardly believe it but there it was: a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime, wrong, etc., whether real or imagined.

'What's etcuh,' Arthur wondered and then concentrated on the more important matter: he was feeling guilt. Surely Merlin was just a servant and an awfully bad one at that but some niggling little doubt, some really quiet voice in the back of Arthur's hindbrain piped up and inconventiently reminded the time-displaced king that he'd being staying in Merlin's house for months, eating his food and generally bothering the hell out of him. Merlin had that little vein above his left eye that twitched and throbbed when he got worked up. Arthur'd been seeing a lot of it.

Arthur made himself a cuppa, prided himself briefly on saving his servant work, and sat down, thinking like this: surely the guilt was because of an imagined wrong, Merlin was imagining it. Clearly! Still, his trusty servant felt bad and he couldn't have that. He would make it up to the lad, even if.. even IF, and it was a big if, Merlin was entirely in the wrong.

Now the question became what to do about it. Since Arthur'd offered to cook a pigeon that foolishly had tried to headbut his sword when he was practising one day, he hadn't brought cooking up again. Merlin's vein had twitched for a full half hour. And the thing with the teeth wand just now... more twitchintg. Then, he realised that, what with Merlin having gone out, he had a very nice chance to use the browerwebz. He'd think about making it up to Merlin later.

* * *

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My people!

What have you done?!

I leave the country for three weeks and immediately warlord of Cambridge misses the only correct name for his spawn. And it was so obvious!

Arthur!

Not George.. about the only posive thing that could be said for 'George' is that at least it isn't French. Oh well, he won't rule anyway. An Arthur will ascend the throne soon enough, for magic and fate have wrought it. And that Arthur, suffice it to say, is me. Let me just take the chance to reiterate that I plan no action or threat of any kind against the current royal family, undersized brats included. History will repair itself on it's own, withouth me wreaking any havoc. (Not that I couldn't do it, I am insanely good at fighting... but I won't. Promise.)

Actually, we'd already returned when the fateful misnomer took place. Maybe my leaving the country does something to its magic? I'll have to ask Merlin about it. I'll do that later. For now I'm typing as fas as I can, before he returns and somehow discovers something wrong with what he calls 'the network'. At first I thought he meant a secret cabal or cult that wished to stop me communicating with you but it transpired he just means the thick thread that runs from the blinking light blow to the wall.

We had a lot of fun in the Viking Realm. They speak very differently from me, I mean even different from my mother's tongue. It was closer though, somehow. If I tried to listen for real, without Merlin's magic, I cought glimpses of meaning. Luckily, these Swedes are wise people and all speak English. Perhaps if I offer them partial autonomy, they'll think of joining my real-to-be?

We went to the historical museum in Stockholm and saw many viking remnants. Obviously, I like them best. They were fierce, and manly. Nothing like the modern day Sweden which seems to define itself by taking tea or coffee ritually and having thought up a yearly music festical. Pah! A policeman apologized to me when I ran into him! I can understand they called them 'polis' there, no man to speak of.

I made Merlin promise to take me to every historical museum he could find and he kept his word. All three in the country we saw and it was magnificent. Just as a nature they have there. Mountains and forests and lakes and rivers.. a man can be a man there.

Oh, helvete. I hear him opening the locks. Good bye for now, my people. Keep sending me messages, and money of course. I promise to answer any questions in my next message.

Wes þu hal!

your king, Arthur

* * *

A/N: Keep sending me suggestions for what Arthur has to write about on his blog. Anything goes, his royal highness will have an opinion about it.

Many thanks to the people who sent in their suggestions this time. I try to use them all. If I've forgotten something, send me a note.

Remember people: reviews are love. And good for my ego. And you love my ego so it all boils down to the same thing. Please please please review. I beg on my knees, humbly. Well, no not really. Once I've published this I'll go have a beer but you get the idea.


End file.
